


NO ONE LEAVES HOME

by AgnesClementine



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Author doesn't know what this is, Bobby | Trevor Wilson Defense Squad, Friendship, Gen, Good Person Bobby | Trevor Wilson, I Don't Even Know, I guess???, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, what about it, yes i made alex wear glasses bc i'm projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28407573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesClementine/pseuds/AgnesClementine
Summary: He strides to Bobby’s car with purpose and drops his backpack on the floor of the passenger seat before asking, “How do you feel about skipping the first period?”Bobby, who was sucking on a mint until now, bites down on it. Alex hears it crunch as Bobby’s eyebrows shoot up. “Okay,” he says despite his surprise.***********************************I needed some Alex&Bobby friendship. So.
Relationships: Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Alex Mercer
Comments: 27
Kudos: 124





	NO ONE LEAVES HOME

**Author's Note:**

> This thing doesn't have a timeline, just to put it out there. I guess it's 2020 and the boys are just,,,,normal teenagers?? Whatever, I know I haven't actually written Bobby before???(*squinting in recollection*) but I love him. So. Much. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think and enjoy! :)

Dinners are the worst part, Alex thinks. He sits on Dad’s left, one seat between them since he hit a growth spurt in 7th grade and started catching his elbows on everything. Mom is right next to Dad on his other side, the three of them sat around the corner of the dining table. No one talks. Alex feels the pressure in the room with each bite he takes, pushing down on him, and when he brings his dishes to the kitchen and washes them, the conversation in the dining room finally starts.

Lunches are fine because Alex spends them in school and then he’s always somewhere else with the band and his friends before going home. They hit a diner or food stand near the piers, or bring pizza or burgers to band rehearsals. Or have Julie’s dad bring them some of her Tia’s homemade tamales. Either way, lunches are Alex’s favorite.

And breakfasts hold a close second place to dinners, except Alex is alone in the morning and he can cry into his stupid bowl of cereal like he wants to when his parents are around. The house is empty and it’s when the loneliness and isolation hit the worst, strangely, because there’s no note on the fridge his mom used to leave for him each morning for as long as he can remember.

Today, he dresses and eats his breakfast and leaves the bowl, out of spite, in the sink. And then he feels bad and washes it anyway.

He can’t find his jacket on the hanger, and his fingers are too shaky to put in his contacts so he has to remember where he left his glasses. By the time he finds them in his sock drawer and decides to just tug his favorite hoodie over his shirt, Bobby is already parked on his driveway.

He honks and the sound echoes through the house, cold and empty and uninviting. And Alex gets an idea.

He strides to Bobby’s car with purpose and drops his backpack on the floor of the passenger seat before asking, “How do you feel about skipping the first period?”

Bobby, who was sucking on a mint until now, bites down on it. Alex hears it crunch as Bobby’s eyebrows shoot up. “Okay,” he says despite his surprise. “Why are we skipping?”

“Come on,” Alex says and beckons him inside the house. He snags two cardboard boxes from the garage, then marches up the stairs to his room with Bobby at his heels.

When they reach it, he drops the boxes on the carpet and says, “Start packing.”

There’s a heavy pause in which he stomps over to the closet and Bobby doesn’t say anything-  _ doesn’t move at all _ \- as Alex starts dumping his clothes into the box closest to him.

They are definitely going to be late, he thinks absently, if they make it to the first period at all. Alex is missing Chemistry, and the only reason he’s sad about that is that he likes his lab partner, and Bobby is missing PE- which Alex knows he doesn’t really give a shit about. In fact, if anything, Bobby is happy about it.

He’s still not saying anything. Alex can feel his eyes on the back of him, following his frantic movements and shaky hands; he knows he’s breathing too loud and he feels moments away from crying.

And then Bobby yanks his underwear drawer out of the nightstand and upends it into his own box.

✻✻✻✻✻

The only comment made once Luke, Julie, and Reggie get into Bobby’s car- and see one of the cardboard boxes they couldn’t fit in the trunk- comes from Reggie.

“Ohh, you’re wearing glasses today,” he says, and Alex consciously touches his transparent frames, eternally grateful that they know not to prod him.

They don’t talk about it in school and they don’t talk about it on the drive to the studio for the band practice. And then, during their first break, Bobby announces, hip against Alex’s shoulder where he has sunk into the sofa, “Alex is staying at my place now.”

He says it with conviction, and Alex forgets, for a moment, that they haven’t even discussed it yet. 

Alex wasn’t even thinking about where he’d be staying, he just knew he had to get out of there. He just knew he had to run from that emptiness and cold like his life depended on it and didn’t think about the aftermath. 

Anyway, the worst option was staying at the studio- and that was still infinitely better than saying with his parents.

The resolve in Bobby’s voice jars him enough that he stops drumming his sticks on his knees and has him looking up at one of his best friends.

“And- but what about your parents?”

Bobby waves him off with a dismissive noise. “Dude, you know that they love you. They won’t care.” He turns to the rest of the group. “That goes for all of you, by the way.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Luke says and slings his arms over Julie’s and Reggie’s shoulders, tucking them against his sides. “We gotta stick together.”

✻✻✻✻✻

“I’m sorry you have to put up with me,” Alex says that evening when they’re sorting through his clothes in Bobby’s room. “I just...couldn’t stay there any longer.”

The great thing- one of the great things- about Bobby is that he doesn’t ask questions. Alex thinks he figured early on that the best way to get anything out of the three of them is to wait- as opposed to the gentle nudging Julie needs. Questions make Reggie clam up, make Luke defensive, make Alex overwhelmed. But eventually, without prompting, every dam breaks.

“I thought- I- I wanted them to get over it, you know? Like, it’s not- it’s not a big deal, damnit. I mean, I’m not some stranger, suddenly, I’m still their son. And they are- they are my  _ parents _ . They’re supposed to love me no matter what. But they don’t and now I’m bothering you-”

A cloth hits him square in the face. It startles him out of his rant and when it drops in his lap, he realizes it’s one of Reggie’s T-shirts. It also makes him aware of his wet cheeks. 

“I’m fine,” he says, unconvincingly, and swipes his knuckles under his eyes.

Bobby snorts. “Sure, that’s why you’re crying in my room and obsessively folding my underwear.”

Alex, mortified, glances down to see that he is, in, fact, folding Bobby’s boxers into a neat pile.

“Oh my, God,” he says, going pale. “I’m so sor-”

“Oh, shut up,” Bobby groans. “Anyway, haven’t you noticed I leave all my shit out of the drawers so you have something to do when you come over to have a breakdown? Therapy and free cleaning service, I’m a genius.”

Alex surprises himself by barking out a laugh. “You’re an asshole,” he says without a bite.

Bobby tosses his jeans into a heap and says, “Uh-huh, but I’m your favorite asshole.”

“Sure,” Alex agrees, smiling. “Just don’t tell Luke.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Bobby says, chuckling. After a beat, he wiggles around so he can nudge Alex’s thigh with his toes. “Hey,” he calls, sounding serious. “You’re not bothering me. Your parents can suck it,” he says with a wry smirk. 

Alex breathes out, not sure if it’s relief or gratitude or amusement, but knowing that it’s clutching at his heart all the same. “Thanks. Really, it means a lot.”

Bobby nudges him with his foot again in acknowledgment and they go back to sorting his clothes.

Later, when the lights are out and they are pretty much precariously spooning on Bobby’s bed- because his mom turned the spare room into an office two summers ago and their couch is not exactly sleep-friendly- Alex finally gets the guts to say, “And what if- what if my parents call and tell yours and they-”

“Alex, if my parents make you move out because you’re gay, I’m moving out with you,” Bobby informs him, settling his hand firmly between Alex’s shoulder blades. “We can pitch a tent in the Molina’s backyard.”

Alex snorts, starts laughing- albeit quietly so he doesn’t wake up Bobby’s parents- and thinks how Bobby’s hand on his back feels like a part of his actual, warmer, and more loving home.


End file.
